The sun shone through the stained glass windows, casting a colorful shadow on the floor of the newspaper's conference room. The meeting was in full swing, and everyone explained their plans one after another. The heated discussions echoed in the conference room. In the end, the topic focused on the plans of Zheng Wanqing and Zhu Yinlin.

Several handwritten copies brought by Zheng Wanqing were circulated among the crowd. The yellowed pages exuded a faint scent of jasmine. Her proposal focused on exploring the contemporary connotations in the literary works of women in the Republic of China.

Zhu Yinlin's proposal, on the other hand, took a different approach, focusing more on showing the rich and colorful personal experiences of female writers. She carefully prepared a scrapbook with photos of the writers and excerpts from their representative works on each page, and marked them with colorful ribbons.

The discussion gradually reached a climax, and the editors expressed their opinions in an extremely heated atmosphere. Seeing this, Ji Chen tapped the table lightly. The crisp sound was like a steady timpani, which instantly stopped the debate. He looked calm and said slowly: "The two plans each have their own unique highlights. However, considering the literary mission of the supplement... I prefer Editor Zheng's plan."

When Zhu Yinlin heard this, the pen in her hand seemed to be controlled, leaving a long, abrupt ink mark on the notebook.

After the meeting, she hurriedly stopped Ji Chen. Her newly permed hair seemed to have lost its former luster because of her gloomy expression. Her eyes were full of grievances, and her voice was crying: "Cousin Ji, what's wrong with my plan?" She hesitated, "Is it because..."

"Yinlin," Ji Chen sighed softly, took out a neatly folded handkerchief from his suit pocket and handed it to her, "This is a purely work-related decision." His voice was soft but powerful, "The supplement pursues depth and connotation, not just a gimmick."

Zhu Yinlin tightly grasped her handkerchief, her eyes fixed on her cousin's back as he walked towards Zheng Wanqing's office. Her nails unconsciously dug deep into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped red marks.

After the meeting decided that Zheng Wanqing would be in charge of the plan, she threw herself into the preparatory work for the special topic. Her desk was piled with precious manuscripts collected from all over the place, and the light on her workstation was often on until late at night.

Sometimes, when Ji Chen passed by, he could see her silhouette working at her desk through the frosted glass. Her focused posture seemed to be isolated from the world, and she was completely immersed in the vast ocean of literature. Seeing this, Ji Chen felt pity for her and took the initiative to help her share the work. The two of them often stayed in the reference room for most of the day.

On a quiet afternoon, Zhu Yinlin held a cup of steaming coffee and gently pushed open the door of the data room. However, the scene that appeared in front of her eyes made her stunned instantly. Ji Chen was leaning over to pick up the pen that Zheng Wanqing had dropped, and their hair almost touched each other under the sunlight.

The coffee cup in Zhu Yinlin's hand shook violently, and the brown liquid splashed uncontrollably on the lace cuffs, leaving a conspicuous and ugly stain.

She sat in front of her workstation in a daze, staring blankly at the new Gone with the Wind movie poster on the wall, her fingers unconsciously groping on the table, touching a pair of scissors.

On the table was the invitation letter for the French Consulate cocktail party that Ji Chen had given her. The gold-plated French words still shone brightly in the darkening twilight. With a "click", as if a string in her heart had snapped, the invitation letter broke, and the fragments fell on her newly bought patent leather high heels.

Time flies, and the preparation of this issue of newspaper is nearing completion.

On the eve of the newspaper going to press, Zhu Yinlin tightly held Zheng Wanqing's manuscript in her hand, her fingertips throbbing from exerting force. She bit her lower lip, hesitated for a moment, and then picked up the pen to add a few lines to a writer's manuscript. Those words were so radical that they were almost dangerous, like a poisonous snake hiding in the dark, lurking silently between the lines, waiting to cause a storm at any time.

When Zheng Wanqing received the revised manuscript, she did not notice the hidden problems in it because of her trust in Zhu Yinlin. She thought it was a reasonable adjustment made by the writer according to the ideas they had communicated before, so she carefully sorted out the special manuscript and sent it to Editor Liu.

"Thank you for your hard work, Editor Liu." Zheng Wanqing said with a smile, her eyes falling on the thin woman in front of her.

Editor Liu always likes to wear a lilac-colored cheongsam with dark patterns, and her every move reveals her gentle temperament. She often holds a thread-bound book in her hand, and her nails are trimmed round and clean, with slightly yellow fingertips, which are the unique marks left by years of rubbing against paper. She occasionally looks up and smiles, and there are shallow fine lines at the end of her eyes, but her eyes are as clear as a freshly brewed Longjing tea, revealing a quiet bookish atmosphere.

Editor Liu took the manuscript with a smile and said, "If we talk about hard work, it's you, Editor Zheng. You've been busy for more than half a month. It's not easy. Okay, just give it to me."